


Sharks In The Sink

by SoldierOfMyShadowyMind



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Ethan cares deeply for his team, Fluff, Friendship, Hospitalization, Hurt, Hurt Benji, Hurt Ethan, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers for Mission: Impossible - Fallout, Trying to Cope, coda to Fallout, it's not quite as gloomy as the tags suggest, my love for Benji is boundless, so much it gets an extra tag, which means there are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16019912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind/pseuds/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind
Summary: Ethan keeps his eyes on Will’s. “I missed you” he says, warm and intimate.Will just looks at him and suddenly Ethan notices the conflicting emotions battling on Will’s face and Ethan doesn’t see which one wins because the smile fades and Will shuts down.“What did you have to do, Ethan?” His voice is grave when he speaks. Ethan detects a minute tremor in there, as if Will had carefully chosen each word but, saying them out loud, realised they might not have been what he had wanted to say.Suddenly, their victory tastes bitter.(Spoilers forFalloutahead!)





	Sharks In The Sink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [remy (iamremy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/gifts), [SPNxBookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNxBookworm/gifts), [Pryaniki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pryaniki/gifts), [marriedtojbiebs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marriedtojbiebs/gifts).



> Hi folks, I'm back! Sorry for disappearing for so long, there was just a lot going on and I wrote stuff in other fandoms and just kind of got tangled up in all of it.  
> Finally! This was supposed to be a short, easy thing and instead it took me _a whole month_ to write this because it refused to cooperate. It’s short-ish, at least. Sort of. There’s not much happening here, just a little coda to Fallout, really, thoughts, emotions… This turned out far darker than I set out for and took a slightly different direction than I originally planned. But well, here’s my two cents.
> 
> For my lovely friends who never tire of screaming about Ethan and Will. And now I’m gonna go catch up on all the updates and post-Fallout fics! Love you guys!
> 
> Title from OWL City’s song _Plant Life_. I’ve been wanting to use this line as a title for years and I thought this was as good a time as ever so here we are.

The harsh wind makes his jacket flap open and Benji hastily scrambles to close the zipper. He crosses his arms over his chest and bristles, eyes narrowed behind his glasses against the onslaught of air. He hasn’t slept in three days and he can barely stand on his own two feet and he’s aware he more than likely looks the part but when he got the call it was like at least some of the weight he’s quietly been carrying around had been lifted from his shoulders.

There’s no way he’s not going to be here, mildly pathetic looking reception committee that he is.

The helicopter lands with a deafening roar that wreaks havoc on Benji’s tired, oversensitive ears and he bravely faces another two minutes of struggling not to be blown off the ground like a leaf until the door slides open and a friendly face appears.

A friendly, weary face. Benji immediately notices the bags under Will’s eyes as the man jumps to the ground and adjusts his coat. He’s looking immaculate as always but Benji’s known him long enough to be intimately acquainted with every single one of Will’s tells. And Benji doesn’t like what he’s seeing. But when Will looks up and spots him, his face lights up and Benji lets himself be overwhelmed by joy and gratitude at seeing his friend again for the first time in what must be close to five months now. A small smile tugs at his lips as he raises a hand in greeting and gives Will an awkward little wave. Will smiles back but it’s short-lived and hard-fought and Benji feels his heart sink.

Will looks a little out of place, almost lost. His steps are faltering, unsure, almost timid, and Benji gets the distinct impression that Will is dreading whatever it is he’s going to find here.

_“It’s okay, Will, we made it, it’s over. He saved the world. Again.”_

_“Ethan, is he…”_

_“He’s okay. No need to worry, Will, he’s recovering but he won’t be setting foot on a plane anytime soon.”_

_“Then I’m coming to you.”_

That’s what he’s told Will when that bastard had called him in the middle of the bloody night, completely disregarding the existence of time zones, trying desperately to hide his anxiety. Even when your significant other is Ethan Hunt, you never quite get used to it, Benji supposes.

Not that Benji had been sleeping that night, anyway.

Will’s picked up his pace slightly and Benji decides to meet him halfway. He briskly walks the last few metres and doesn’t even say a word before he draws Will into a crushing hug. Will squeezes back just as tightly and Benji thinks he hears him breathe a sigh of relief.

“It’s good to see you” Benji says – with such desperate sincerity he surprises himself – as he steps back again, giving Will a little room. He keeps a hand on Will’s arm, though, just in case. He doesn’t really know if it’s meant to ground Will or steady himself. Maybe it’s both.

It’s familiar, and familiar means safe.

“You too, Benji” Will mumbles honestly and gives a small nod. And he’s holding himself so well, Benji admires him for that. It doesn’t fool him, though.

There’s a hollowness in Will’s eyes that chills Benji down to his core.

But Will smiles it off, the brave soul, and Benji doesn’t comment. They’re both still too shaken by the recent events.

“I heard you were awesome” Will says, and his smile is less forced now.

Benji grins despite himself. “I got to wear masks. You hear that? _Plural._ ”

Will actually lets out a small laugh. “Told you your time would come.” He claps Benji on the shoulder. “I’m very proud of you.” His eyes are solemn and Benji knows he means every word.

Benji just gives a sheepish shrug. “It was teamwork.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Benji, you were fantastic.” Brassel had filled him in on the rough basics, Will had said over the phone.

Benji can’t help thinking how much better they could have been had Will been there. His ability to remain calm and collected, to think ahead could have saved them more than just time. They might have figured Walker out quicker and Hunley might still be-- But Benji knows he’s prone to letting himself get caught up in _maybes_ and _what ifs_ so he stops that train of thought right there. The whole thing would still have gone up in figurative as well as very literal flames.

Ethan is still Ethan, after all.

He doesn’t know whether he should be glad that at least some things never change. It’s what they say, isn’t it? It’s supposed to be a good thing. Right now, Benji isn’t so sure.

So Benji shrugs it off because apparently that’s all he knows how to do right now. “Ah, you know. Just the usual. Saved the world. Nothing new there.” He grins again, aiming for his signature goofy smile but missing by miles. If Will notices, he doesn’t comment.

Benji is trying to figure out how to gently break the tentative sliver of something like a good mood and breach the topic of Ethan’s continued flirt with death when he sees Will’s eyes travel downwards. Benji swallows, ignoring the painful twinge. He can practically hear Will’s breath catch when he discovers the angry red marks.

“Benji, what…” Will starts but loses his words. His next sentence trails off in the gust of wind that sweeps through the valley. “No one told me you—”

Will looks up to meet Benji’s eyes, desperate for Benji to give some sort of explanation, to tell him it looks worse than it really is, to say anything at all to lift the heavy blanket of shocked silence that has descended over them.

But Benji can’t give him that. He glances away.

It’s exactly as bad as it looks. It’s worse.

“Who did this to you?” he hears Will mutter, disbelieving, too paralysed to sound furious yet, and they both know that Will figured it out the second he saw it.

Will cautiously reaches out a hand but Benji quickly turns his face away and takes a step back, out of Will’s reach, muttering something barely audible about Ilsa being worse off. Will’s hand hangs in the air for half a second, suspended, before he drops it, suddenly uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

Of course Will worries and Benji appreciates it, he truly does. But he’s done so well ignoring it. He’s found he can deal with the physical pain, it calms him in a strange way. Sleep remains elusive anyway but Benji is far more terrified of what awaits him behind his own closed eyes than he is of touching the tender skin at his throat.

He can deal with this. It’s palpable. Solomon Lane is not.

Benji is well aware that denial is the wrong road to choose. But he’s barely been able to settle his uneasy, skittish mind after his last encounter with that madman. This right here just adds to the chaos and the never-ending loop of _Why?_ and the creeping feeling that he relies too much on Ethan to protect him. The thought that if he makes that easy of a target, he might be better off behind a safe desk after all. Ethan keeps telling him that he’s invaluable but what Benji knows beyond a doubt is that he is the weakest link of the chain. And he is not irreplaceable.

“Ethan is in the medical tent” Benji mumbles hastily, just something to fill the silence.

It’s the reason Will’s here, after all. Benji doesn’t want to distract.

 

~~~

 

Ethan fights against wakefulness for an energy-draining minute before he gives in to the prodding feeling at the back of his mind. He blinks his eyes open – it’s not entirely dark yet but from the fading daylight that seeps into the tent Ethan supposes it must be evening already. He’s slept through the entire day. Julia would probably prefer if he went right back to sleep but there’s something off, he can feel it. Ethan’s senses never fail him.

Sure enough there’s a shadow lurking in the corner of the tent and when it moves, Ethan smiles.

It could only have been him.

Will steps away from his hiding place and further into the tent. He moves with caution, Ethan notes, as if he’s unsure of his welcome.

“Will” Ethan greets him with a warm smile, voice still a little rough from sleep. He blinks at himself in surprise at how utterly exhausted he sounds.

Will stops a few feet away from the bed, clearly taking in the state of Ethan’s injuries, the monitors and machines surrounding him. It’s nothing Will hasn’t seen before and Ethan feels a pang of guilt at the thought. He knows what he’s putting Will through, again and again. Every time they have the same fight and today will be no different. Benji’s words sneak up on him before he has time to brace himself. _One day you’re going to take it too far._ He’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. The possibility of Will leaving him because of all of _this_ … It sits heavy in his heart each and every time Will looks at him after they complete another mission. And each and every time Will reminds him that he’s there, no matter what. They fight and they make up. It’s almost a ritual by now. Will loves him, Ethan knows. It just surprises him every time that this is enough for Will to endure this over and over again.

Others would have run a long time ago.

But they only have each other. There’s nothing else out there for them so they have to cling to each other. So that’s what they do.

Will holds Ethan’s gaze for a second, then averts his eyes and lifts a hand to scratch the back of his head. Ethan vaguely thinks he probably shouldn’t find Will’s nervous ticks so endearing.

“Come here” Ethan encourages, reaching out a hand and throwing Will a winning smile. Will sighs, drops his arm, and fixes Ethan with a frighteningly undecipherable look. Ethan isn’t sure what to do with that.

But then Will is over at his bedside, sitting down on the folding chair next to it and, after a moment’s hesitation, takes Ethan’s hand in his own.

“Hey” Will says and smiles and Ethan knows it’s okay. They’ll fight, but it’s going to be okay.

Ethan keeps his eyes on Will’s. “I missed you” he says, warm and intimate.

Will just looks at him and suddenly Ethan notices the conflicting emotions battling on Will’s face and Ethan doesn’t see which one wins because the smile fades and Will shuts down.

“What did you have to do, Ethan?” His voice is grave when he speaks. Ethan detects a minute tremor in there, as if Will had carefully chosen each word but, saying them out loud, realised they might not have been what he had wanted to say.

Ethan studies him, worried, but before he can say anything Will shakes his head. “No, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” He stares at their entwined fingers and Ethan realises Will already knows what happened. He knows the facts – Walker, the bombs, Lane, _Julia_ – but he doesn’t know what went on in Ethan’s head. What Ethan was willing to do.

Ethan wonders if it’s worse this time. If somehow he manages to make it worse each time. He’s all too aware that he barely escaped with his life and his fight with Walker – or Lark or whoever the man is – _was_ – plays vivid and colourful before his inner eye. There is nothing he can say to ease Will’s mind, Will would cut him off, call him out on his feeble attempt to make light of the situation.

Ethan deflates a little. He needs to stop treating Will like a fine, porcelain treasure that would break if he so much as took his eyes off of it. He needs to stop treating him as if Will couldn’t take it. Will can take care of himself. But he’s prone to bottling things up, prone to worry. Ethan has experienced first-hand how hard it can be to reach out, to get through to him sometimes. It frightens Ethan like nothing else does. He doesn’t want _this_ – this moment of privacy, of intimacy after _months_ – to be one of those times.

But Ethan knows with the same fiery intensity, the same blatant clarity that the fierce need to protect Will is as much a part of him as Will himself is.

He’s spared the trouble of finding words, however, because Will is saying, “Ethan.” And then again, “Ethan… Ethan…” as if he’s testing the name, trying it out to see if it still feels right on his tongue.

For an irrational second Ethan struggles to breathe against the sudden, inexplicable fear of hearing Will’s next words.

Will is worrying Ethan’s hand, fiddling with this sleeve, and Ethan reaches out with his free hand but the pain in his shoulder that flares up suddenly and with a vengeance stops him from getting very far.

“Hey” Ethan says instead, softly, but Will doesn’t seem to hear him.

He starts rambling. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. For everything. I’m so sorry for what happened to Benji, he doesn’t deserve—”

Ethan frowns at him. “Will, stop it. Why are you apologising?” He gently squeezes Will’s hand, absurdly relieved, inwardly reprimanding himself. All of this… it’s a lot to take in, even for someone as composed as Will.

Will finally stops avoiding his eyes and sighs a world-weary sigh. “I… Why didn’t you call me?” His shoulders are hunched and he’s sitting on the edge of the chair and suddenly Ethan realises that the reason for Will’s uncomfortableness is his inability to change the way the events unfolded. Will feels out of place because he wasn’t there in the first place, because he thinks he has no right to be here, because his spot on the team has been taken – so Will must assume – by someone else.

Will has a tendency to take the blame for things he has no power over. Ethan isn’t going to let him take the blame for this.

“We both know that wasn’t an option.” Ethan pauses, wishing he could move his arm enough to touch Will.

“Of course it was!” Will protests. “This wasn’t some run-of-the-mill mission, this was Lane. He’s the most dangerous man I know and I’ve seen my fair share, hell, _you_ — you have—”

“Will—”

“One phone call and I would’ve been there!”

“I know” Ethan simply says, gaze unwavering. He doesn’t want to fight. He needs Will to understand, however, even though he knows that Will already does, that he’s just doing it for his own sake, or for Ethan’s, or for the familiarity of it. Ethan smiles. Sometimes he wonders why they’re still doing this, after years of knowing the outcome. They’re both too stubborn to stop, he supposes. Too impulsive. Too damn self-sacrificing. They simply know each other too well. Ethan chuckles, marvelling at how this is his life. Marvelling at Will.

He’s glad _that_ they’re still doing this. It’s comforting to know that not everything has been unhinged as utterly and completely as Ethan had felt high up on that mountain, plunged into uncertainty, suspended, gazing over the breathtaking scenery with unseeing eyes, blind for its silent, strong beauty. On the brink of destruction.

He schools his features and looks at Will, earnest and sincere. “I didn’t want to involve you.”

Will just snorts and rolls his eyes. “You don’t think after the mess we ploughed through the first time we came across Lane I have a right to know what’s going on because _I am already involved_?”

Ethan has nothing to offer against this other than one simple truth. “If anything had happened to you, Will, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

For just a second, Will’s eyes go hard. “I’m not fragile, Ethan.”

Ethan sighs. It’s not the first time they’re having this argument, either. “I know. But you’re still breakable” he states, undeterred. On a lighter note, if a little defiant, he adds, remembering his earlier train of thought, “You can hardly fault me for wanting to protect you.”

“No, Ethan. But do you think that same concept doesn’t apply to me, too?” Will is still trying to stare him down but there’s no heat behind the words, his voice gentle and worn-out where the fatigue creeps through.

“Of course” Ethan says, giving Will’s hand a reassuring squeeze. He doesn’t let go even as Will doesn’t say anything else, just lets the sound of the words trail off into the cool late evening air. It’s not cold in the tent, the heaters are doing their job but there’s a chill in the air that’s not entirely down to the season. It feels unnatural. Like a still, a frozen image, the world shocked into silent motionlessness, paralysed between fear and incredulity.

Ethan lies on his bed, head tilted to the side so he can look at Will. Even with the wary frown perpetually etched between his brows he’s a sight for sore eyes. And Ethan hasn’t seen him in five long months. He takes in the clear signs of fatigue on Will’s face, the ever deeper worry lines on his forehead, the way his whole posture all but begs for reprieve, for just a moment of peace. Just a couple of months, undisturbed, during which the world takes care of itself. Ethan wishes he could give him that.

The echo of a thought makes him still and his brows furrow in alerted concentration. Will looks at him in concern but Ethan rewinds their conversation in his head and comes to an abrupt stop. “What did you say about Benji?”

It’s Will’s turn to frown. He stares at Ethan for a moment, then something like recognition passes over his face and he sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and keeping it pressed over his mouth. It’s a gesture Ethan’s come to associate with Will a long time ago but this time, the familiarity of it does nothing to settle his unease.

Will’s not looking at him when he says, a defeated quality to his voice, “Of course he didn’t tell you.”

Ethan moves to sit up, alarmed, momentarily forgetting about his damaged ribs which promptly give him a rather harsh reminder. “Tell me what?” Ethan demands, ignoring the white-hot pain, clenching his teeth.

He’s persistent, if nothing else.

But Will just shakes his head and he looks so tired. So done with it all. Ethan wants to reach out, take some of the enormous burden off his shoulders but right now he needs to know what happened to Benji.

Will refuses to tell him. He still doesn’t meet Ethan’s eyes and the knot in Ethan’s stomach grows tighter. He wants to push, to make Will tell him but he refrains, forces himself to breathe steadily. Restlessness courses through his veins and Ethan struggles to lie still even though his body is in no condition to obey any other commands.

“It’s not my place to tell” Will says and Ethan feels the urge to destroy something.

He knows instinctively that someone – that Lane – hurt Benji. He grits his teeth and balls his hands to fists, letting his head fall back against the pillow, hard. He promised to protect him. He promised that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Benji and he failed. The worst part is that it’s not even the first time. After the last mission Ethan had sworn to himself never to let Benji be caught in the crossfire again. And here he is, powerless in the face of the knowledge that Lane got the upper hand. Again. They all have their own ways of dealing with these kinds of situations but Benji isn’t as good at compartmentalising when it comes to this. Benji doesn’t take it well and he certainly doesn’t easily overcome a shock like this. He’s a man who takes things to heart, far too much, he’s compassionate and caring and they never acknowledge enough what he’s done for the team, what he _does_. And when Benji needed him, Ethan wasn’t there to protect him.

The fact that it happened twice makes Ethan sick.

But Benji still trusted Ethan, he still went into the field with him, he still _believed_ in him.

And Ethan betrayed that trust. Instead, he was so focused on Julia, so outraged at Lane taking revenge on him by threatening her that he completely forgot that there were other people who needed him. Other people whom he took for granted. Takes for granted every single day. He simply blanked them out.

They might have saved the world. And Hunley’s right, Ethan values one life just as highly as he does a million. But this does nothing to change the fact that he failed Benji. That he didn’t even so much as spare a thought to him, to Ilsa, to Luther, even to Will. Just assumed they would be fine, get through this with as much ridiculous luck as Ethan himself. That he didn’t even think to ask, afterwards.

Ethan is half grateful that Will doesn’t say anything else because that spares him from having to listen to Will’s reassurances. Will’s protecting him by not telling him but today Will’s trademark thoughtful, diplomatic consideration is more than Ethan can take.

He failed. End of story.

Suddenly, their victory tastes bitter.

Will’s caressing his arm and the gentle touch snaps Ethan out of it. He looks up and Will’s eyes speak volumes. The motion of Will’s fingers tracing mindless patterns into his skin calms Ethan and he settles down more comfortably again. Anger doesn’t solve anything and rationally Ethan knows that whatever Will wants to say but doesn’t is right, that whatever Benji is going to say when they do talk will be right.

Ethan has never been a rational man.

If there’s one thing Ethan knows beyond a doubt it’s that he would do anything for his team, without a second’s hesitation. But he has a tendency to lose himself in the mission, the fight, and this time, his impulsive nature had almost cost him one of his dearest friends. It doesn’t matter that they defied the odds in the end, it doesn’t matter that the world around them is still standing, still breathing. It’s the cold, bitter feeling of _almost_ that Ethan can’t shake and even Will’s presence won’t be able to change that. Ethan grits his teeth and stares darkly at the opposite wall.

No one is going to tell him he can’t protect everyone. He can, no matter what the world throws at him.

 

~~~

 

Time seems to slow now that Will is here, like Ethan has finally found the last missing puzzle piece. Except that nothing quite fits into their places, a loose composition, hanging on by a bare thread. The calm and quiet inside the tent slows his thoughts and violently shaken emotions and Ethan feels at a resemblance of rest, reconnecting with his surroundings.

Neither of them speak for a while and it’s comfortable. Ethan allows himself to have this; it’s going to be hell once they land in DC and they all deserve some rest, some peace. Will relaxes into his chair, tension draining from his shoulders. His hand stays where it is, though, fingers tangled with Ethan’s.

Ethan reckons Will is going to stay for a day or two, letting the dust settle, help where he can. Ethan smiles, watching Will. God, he’s missed him.

Will catches him looking and scowls and Ethan wants to laugh. If Will has found his scowl again that means the world is back on its axis.

“You’re mad at me, I know” Ethan says, aiming for a lighter tone, freeing his hand from Will’s grasp and brushing his thumb over Will’s cheekbone. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not nearly enough but I still am sorry.”

Will shakes his head; it’s subtle but Ethan feels the movement in his hand. When he speaks, Will sounds… resigned.

“No, Ethan, I’m not mad. I know you by know, I know what I was getting myself into.” He looks up at this point and this time his eyes are clear and the worry lines carved deep into his beautiful features. “I’m just so fucking glad to see you alive.” The last sentence comes out in a rush, words tumbling together, his voice a little breathy. It does something terrible to Ethan’s heart.

Ethan trails his fingers down Will’s jaw, his throat, gently rubs the back of fingers over Will’s chest. His touch is light but sure. They’re not arguing and the fact throws Ethan off balance for a second but he doesn’t let it show. It’s been a rough couple of days, weeks, months and Ethan can see it in the resigned look in Will’s eyes – as if he accepts the finality of this unchangeable, inevitable part of them, of Ethan. The knowledge that it’s always going to be this way tugs painfully at Ethan’s heart but he doesn’t take his eyes off Will and when Will smiles softly at him Ethan knows.

They’re going to be okay.

Ethan grins. “Yes, you are mad.”

Will lets out a breath as if he’s been holding it this entire time and something in the air between them breaks as if they’d been looking at each other through a thin glass wall and now finally, they’re in the same room.

“Bloody hell, yes I am.” He throws his arms up and combs his hands through his hair, mussing it up. It’s grown longer a bit, curling up slightly at his nape and falling into his face. Ethan likes it. It makes Will look younger but no less the fearless agent that he is. It’s also one of the many signs of the stress they’ve all been under for the past two years, gathering intel on the Apostles, on Lark, interrogating Lane. The last five months especially have been hard on Will. Ethan vows to take care of him, take him somewhere nice when this is over and _be there_ for him.

For now, he focuses on the fact that Will is here. And he’s beautiful.

Will is rambling again and Ethan lets it wash over him, smiling along, knowing there is nothing that could stop Will. “You colossal _idiot_ , Ethan, you almost got yourself killed! I _am_ mad and you are _not_ sorry.”

“I really am” Ethan counters, mostly just for the sake of it.

“You’re really not.”

Will’s eyes don’t leave his, sparkling, and now they’re both grinning.

Ethan is so goddamn happy to see him.

 

~~~

Luther strides into the tent at some point and when he sees Will, he nods. He doesn’t smile but his eyes are fond and in a way, this one look sums up all of Ethan’s ruminations and churned-up emotions and he feels a little lighter at the reassurance that they _understand_. All of them.

Will leaves the tent with the excuse for the need of fresh air but Ethan knows he’s giving them space to talk alone. If it is possible, he loves him even more.

Ethan doesn’t ask Luther about Benji. He’ll talk to Benji in person, tomorrow, maybe.

The sun is gone completely when Will comes back and he and Luther swap metaphorical seats. Luther leaves with a look of warning thrown in Ethan’s direction.

Just as Will settles back into his place at Ethan’s bedside – and Ethan can’t help but notice, gratefully, that there’s a little more colour in Will’s cheeks even though the set of his shoulders still holds a certain tension – his phone rings and Will instantly frowns. To Ethan’s surprise he proceeds to ignore it.

“Shouldn’t you answer that?” Ethan can’t stop himself from remarking; whatever the call is about, it’s important. Everything is now, in the aftermath.

Will turns his frown on him and the sheer power of it throws Ethan off-kilter. Will keeps their eyes locked for what feels like a minute longer, levelling Ethan with that disapproving look before he states, entirely unfazed, “I spent eighteen hours on a plane and on airfields crossing thousands of miles of distance halfway around the globe to finally see my boyfriend after five fucking months of sixteen hour days. Ethan, I am not answering that call. I am here for you.”

Ethan fails to come up with anything to say to that but he eventually manages to shake himself out of his stupor and spends a moment secretly revelling in the precious unveiled possessive undercurrent in Will’s voice.

“One of these days, Will” Ethan murmurs, still a little enchanted by the devotion in Will’s short speech, the fury at those who kept them apart for too long, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

Will’s eyes widen, struck with a sudden and powerful emotion but then he looks away, bites his lip. “Don’t, Ethan. Don’t say that.” The words are a mere whisper but in the tranquillity of the tent it’s enough to carry.

It takes Ethan a second to realise what he’s said and when it hits him he feels stupid, embarrassed. “I’m sorry” he hurries, uselessly, “Will, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Will nods and even though Ethan knows he’s forgiven, just like that the moment is broken. Something heavy settles in the air and nests in Ethan’s chest.

“He said something about Ilsa being worse off” Will says, an afterthought, interrupting Ethan’s brooding and Ethan wants the semblance of normalcy back that had felt so good. “Benji, I mean.” He sounds thoughtful, hesitant. “I assume he means Ilsa Faust? What’s she doing here, Ethan?”

Ethan sighs. They could have avoided that topic for another hour, another day but really, it wouldn’t have made a difference. He doesn’t answer straight away and feels oddly childish for it, as if caught red-handed. “She helped us out. She’s part of the team, Will.” Ethan can practically feel Will’s gaze turn icy; he still hasn’t warmed up to her. Ethan feels insanely proud and lucky to belong to this man but at the same time a little sad that Will still doesn’t trust Ilsa.

“Part of the team” Will echoes, voice flat, expression blank.

“The MI6 had her go after Lane. Will, nothing of this was planned.” Ethan has never seen Will jealous and it is kind of sweet. After all, it didn’t escape Ethan’s notice that Ilsa carries a bit of a torch for him.

“She saved my life, Will” Ethan says, smiling fondly at the memory. He takes Will’s hand again. “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t be sitting here.” The accompanying grin is too much, too bold, too desperate an attempt to lighten the mood, though, because Will frowns at him.

“Don’t get me started, Ethan, I swear to God. What?” he adds, a little snappy, put out, when Ethan doesn’t stop grinning.

“I’m sorry, Will, it’s just. You’re jealous.” It’s just a tad bit funny. Ethan distantly wonders if it’s the pain and the meds that are responsible for this rollercoaster of emotions that he’s strapped to and rushing through.

Will has the audacity to look indignant. “I don’t get jealous.” It’s hilarious.

Ethan quirks a knowing eyebrow and smirks at Will, at himself, at the world, feeling inexplicably light and _good_. “Lord help me, you are jealous.”

Will grimaces and that makes Ethan crack up and his ribs hurt and he wheezes “Don’t make me laugh!” as Will reluctantly smiles down at him. He gets up from his chair to bend down over the bed, his face inches from Ethan’s. Careful of the countless tiny glass cuts that are marring Ethan’s skin, Will touches his hand to Ethan’s cheek and holds it there for a moment.

Will searches out Ethan’s gaze with those stormy blue eyes and only now does it all sink in and come crashing back into him – the separation, the loneliness, the late night phone calls, the exhaustion, just how much he _missed_ Will – all culminating in one plain actuality: Will is here. It knocks all the breath out of Ethan’s lungs.

“Good to have you back” Will says, mouth quirked upwards on one side, those unfairly adorable tell-tale crinkles around his unbelievably blue eyes, and he leans down to kiss him sweetly, short and chaste.

When he moves back Ethan curls a hand around his neck to keep him close just a little longer. Close enough to murmur into the quiet air between them, “I love you. Never forget that.”

Then he pulls Will down again and it’s mostly surprise that makes Will comply for Ethan’s not sure he has enough strength in his arms right now. Ethan leaves Will barely enough time to register the burning intent in his eyes before he clashes their mouths together and they’re kissing like they’ve forgotten how to do anything else.

 

~~~

 

Will sighs and glances at his watch. A pointless motion he’s been repeating every five to ten minutes for the past hour. Time seems to crawl. Ethan’s out cold but Will hasn’t moved from the chair next to his bed, eyes darting around aimlessly every once in a while but always coming back to rest on Ethan’s sleeping face. He looks peaceful. The tent is quiet except for the regular rattling and beeping but Will doesn’t find comfort in the constancy of the sounds around him. His body is still but his mind is going a mile a minute, agitated, and he doesn’t seem to be able to get a grip on himself enough to calm himself down.

There is too much to process. Too much that he can’t quite wrap his head around.

He can’t seem to find sleep so he keeps vigil at Ethan’s bedside. He contemplated trying to find Benji but reasoned his friend would rather be alone. That even the comforting presence of a friend would only add to the confusion and the distress. Will understands. As much as he wants to help he understands the need to be alone and he gives Benji room to find back to himself again.

Still. Will hates feeling useless.

He watches Ethan with a restless mix of feelings creeping and burning under his skin, anger and worry and frustration and fury. Raging fury. He catalogues Ethan’s injuries, the visible ones at least, the ones he’s been informed about. The familiar routine brings him a sort of peace he doesn’t want. It doesn’t sit right with him even though he’s used to it.

They haven’t talked about the events of the past days, Paris, London. Kashmir. There’ll be time enough after, there’ll be meetings and analyses and reports. There’ll be the quiet comfort of their apartment. There’ll be time and maybe, with time, there’ll be comprehension. Will’s brain has had too many hours crossing too many miles trying to pull this apart, break it up into sizable pieces, turn them over and glue them back together.

And now he’s here, watching Ethan sleep, still trying to make sense of it all.

They told him it was close. But with Ethan Hunt, what does that even mean? Will banishes every thought revolving around how they found Ethan, where they found him, _that_ they found him. Every _could have been._ The sheer luck. His blood goes cold at the thought of a time when their impossible luck finally leaves them.

The erratic back and forth of his thoughts is interrupted when the tent rustles. Will startles, jolting upright in his chair, searching the space with his eyes. He breathes in sharply but then freezes when the dull light from the machines illuminates a face he hasn’t seen in years.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here” Julia says, raising her hands apologetically, when she catches sight of Will, visibly startled.

Will blinks at her, still a little taken aback, and deliberates for a few seconds whether to get up. He frowns and stays where he is. Makes an effort to gather his words. “No, I’m sorry. For scaring you.” His voice sounds foreign to his own ears. He’s imagined meeting her hundreds of times but he should have known that it would happen like this. With Ethan in a hospital bed, the world still teetering on the edge, trying to regain its balance.

She smiles, warm and genuine. Trusting. “You didn’t scare me.” She adds, after a heartbeat, “I’m Julia.” She doesn’t offer her hand, doesn’t say more. She doesn’t need to. And somehow she knows that.

Will nods and the motion calms him a bit, smoothing out the wrinkles, shifting the pieces back into place. “I—” _know_ he almost says but stops himself at the last second. She doesn’t know he knows who she is and it’s better to keep it that way. He swallows around the sudden lump in his throat and steadies his voice. “I’m Will.”

Her smile doesn’t falter but her eyes don’t leave his face and Will gets the impression she’s expecting more when she casts a quick, sideways glance towards Ethan.

Will suddenly feels uncomfortable, as if the awkwardness of the situation has finally caught up with him. “I’m Ethan’s… partner” he explains, cringing at his own words.

But he’s too tired to be defiant, or confident, or strong. He’s too tired to meet anyone’s expectation, to justify himself to anyone, to offer any kind of explanation.

Will is just so, so tired.

It must show on his face for Julia doesn’t say anything. But she smiles knowingly, totally getting the double meaning. Will refuses to blush.

He watches her carefully as she checks Ethan’s readouts and he doesn’t flinch as she bends down and smooths the hair from Ethan’s forehead. Her hand lingers for a moment and a small smile appears on her lips. Will feels as if he’s intruding on something private.

Neither of them speak but the silence isn’t unpleasant and Julia’s presence doesn’t trouble Will like he thought it would. Instead, it is strangely reassuring. There is someone here who cares about Ethan the same way he does, who knows him for all he is. Still, Will somehow feels clumsy as if he’s supposed to know something he doesn’t and he wishes Ethan was awake.

There’s a subdued noise at the back entrance of the tent and heavy boots manoeuvre around the equipment towards them.

“Julia?” An unfamiliar voice asks quietly, almost in a whisper.

Julia perks up but smiles when the disembodied voice steps out of the shadows and Will sees the man it belongs to. He murmurs something to Julia, standing close, and Will can only make out snippets that drift through the otherwise silent night. He observes them, the way the man puts a hand on Julia’s arm and Julia’s smile grows imperceptibly, the way they stand, heads bowed, bodies angled towards each other. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that these two mean more to each other and Will feels something warm settle in his chest, a feeling of contentment, and he realises he’s happy for them. For Julia.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Eric, let me just finish up here” Julia says as she turns back to Will and Will quickly averts his eyes, embarrassed that he’s been staring. Eric, seemingly unaware of Will’s presence, nods at her and leaves the tent, the sound of his steps fading.

“My husband” Julia offers by way of explanation and Will gives her an honest smile.

“I thought so” he admits, and adds, “You look happy, the two of you.”

She meets his eyes over Ethan’s sleeping form in the low light of the tent. “We are.”

Will nods. It’s good. It’s closure.

He half thinks to ask about Ethan but catches himself. Ethan knows, Will is sure of that.

Julia walks around the bed and Will gets up from his chair, although why, he doesn’t know. The moment feels comfortable, curiously ordinary, and for a second Will forgets and relaxes, looking down at Ethan. For the first time since he arrived Will feels the full force of all that Ethan stirs up in him and it makes him a little weak in the knees. It’s been five months.

They stand side by side, watching the man who turned both their lives around. Will chances a glance at Julia and startles a little when he finds her looking at him.

“You should get some sleep” Julia says into the silence, her eyes gentle, and Will can see his own constant worry mirrored in them. She understands him without knowing him and Will feels oddly grateful.

“He’ll be fine” she adds, her eyes darting back to Ethan. “He’s in good hands.” Then she huffs out a sudden, quiet laugh, startling Will with her amusement. “He’s a handful, isn’t he?” she says, to Will or to herself, still watching Ethan sleep.

The unease in Will’s stomach settles and he finds himself matching her expression. “He is.” This is something they can share, something private just between the two of them, and it pacifies a part of his mind that has been clamouring and clawing and simmering on the backburner for years.

Will draws strength from that.

Julia straightens up, her hands buried in the pockets of her thick jacket. Her eyes meet Will’s and they hold each other’s gaze for a moment. “Get some rest” she repeats, kindly, a certainty in her eyes that Will identifies as trust. In him, in the world. In Ethan.

Will nods, admiring her confidence.

Julia gives him another small smile, then turns to leave. As Will watches her retreating figure he thinks that he begins to understand what Ethan sees in her. She’s a little wonder all in herself.

Will settles back into his chair, watching the steady rise and fall of Ethan’s chest.

Some things never change.

**Author's Note:**

> So. I watched Fallout twice now and I have A LOT of feelings about this movie. I absolutely loved it, it was brilliant, but WHY DIDN’T THEY AT LEAST MENTION WILL? I mean, come on, a simple acknowledgement to his existence would have been enough. Sigh. Anyway, you might have noticed that Will is sort of icy towards Ilsa in this fic which is basically my way of saying no thank you, Ethan is just fine, he does not need another love interest and even though I’m warming up to Ilsa and yeah, she’s cool, _he does not need it_.  
>  Besides, if Will and Ethan didn’t prove they’re an old married couple in Rogue Nation, then I don’t know.
> 
> And if anyone hurts Benji again, I’m going to destroy something.
> 
> I talked with Remy lately about how the movies don’t acknowledge the characters’ emotional/psychological states enough, about how they don’t even thread in one line of dialogue about what they’ve been through and how it affects them (maybe with the exception of Will in Ghost Protocol). Benji in Fallout is the perfect example – he’s uncomfortable at the beginning of the movie but you simply chalk it up to his signature nervousness. But in the end he just stands off to the side, smiling bravely when he’s almost been hanged by the same person who’d strapped a bomb to him in Rogue Nation and the only character who’s injury is acknowledged is Ilsa. Not that she isn’t just as fucked up – she’s been betrayed by her own organisation, constantly doubted etc. Anyway, what I’m saying is Remy has a brilliant fic that deals with PTSD!Ethan and you should all go and check it out!


End file.
